Mantle Of The Healer
by EmbersOfAmber
Summary: Hawke always hated storms. FemHawke/Anders


_**This was a writing prompt from the LiveJournal DA kmeme:**_

"**When Anders isn't around and Hawke feels lonely she grabs one of his spare coats from their wardrobe and snuggles it."**

* * *

It was dark in their bedroom, despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon. A single candle flickered, illuminating the letter she was squinting to read.

It was a rather indelicate advertisement for a potion to increase male staying power, which was absolutely useless considering that was the last thing Anders needed, but it was something to distract herself with, nonetheless. She shifted in the chair in front of her desk, hunting for a better angle.

It was a positively hideous day, the atmosphere oppressive and thick. Black, roiling storm clouds boiled above the Hightown skyline, threatening to unleash their fury of wet wrath on the hapless people below. Lightning crackled, immediately followed by the harsh trembling of thunder.

Hawke startled, looking up from the papers on her desk to glance out the window at nature's display, with eyes wide with shock. She had never cared for big storms, but this one blowing in from the sea promised to be powerful. Kirkwall's coastal storms were like nothing she had ever experienced in Ferelden, their violence and devastation unsurpassed.

She shivered, dropping the forgotten letter and wrapping her arms around herself, not from cold, but fear. It was ridiculous, she was the Champion of Kirkwall, wasn't she? Hadn't she killed the Arishok in single combat with her greatsword? Surely she could master her fear of storms. Her nervous laughter sounded loud against her own ears.

The panes of glass in the window rattled loudly, the wind lifting and tossing the swaying branches of the trees bordering the estate with angry force. More lightning forked outside the window and the house shook ominously.

Letting out a strangled squeak and with the partially formed thought already in mind, she ran to the closet, slamming the door behind her and cowering in the corner like a scared mouse. Hawke's false bravado deserted her. All the martial skills in the world were useless against the elements.

Groping above her, she brushed against soft suede and silky feathers and sighed in relief. Tugging sharply, she liberated Anders spare coat from the hanger, the heavy garment pooling in her lap.

His familiar scent wafted through the small space, calming the galloping racing of her heart and allowing her to draw a trembling breath. Grunting with effort, she twisted and pulled until she was able to insinuate herself into her lovers clothing, wrapping the empty arms of the coat around her, imagining it was his arms that held her tight.

It's a funny thing, she thought, what the mind chooses to latch onto in the absence of the one you love. A particular look or smile. Something humorous or maybe something arousing. You never really know what it might be until your beloved is absent, and you desperately want them.

For Hawke, it had always been Anders scent. That rosemary and sage blend, combined with a hint of musky sandalwood and the warmth of healing magic. It was a complex smell- much like the man himself.

The tinkling sound of shattering glass made her gasp and sink lower in her hiding place. She buried her nose against one of the sleeves of his coat, her own breath coming back hot against her face. With trembling voice, she tried reciting verses of the Chant, speaking quietly against feathered pauldrons.

"Those who oppose thee  
Shall know the wrath of heaven.  
Field and forest shall burn,  
The seas shall rise and devour them,  
The wind shall tear their nations  
From the face of the earth,  
Lightning shall rain down from the sky,  
They shall cry out to their false gods,  
And find silence."

She frowned, not feeling terribly reassured by the words which sounded more like a foul threat than anything else. She decided to improvise with juvenile humor as she was sometimes wont to do in her drunker moments, despite being without a drop of whisky to wet her mouth now.

"Blessed Andraste laid upon her back.

The Maker looked down and observed the tasty snack.

With tongue so divine he probed and devoured,

Then came across Thedas in a god-like golden shower."

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Perhaps Andraste should have a glorious rack instead?"

Hawke snickered to herself irreverently, having never been overtly religious. When Sebastian began to annoy her with his constant harping on the Maker, she had started thinking up her own version of the Chant, finding it an endless source of entertainment.

The door opened and she closed her eyes tightly against the sudden flood of light into her hiding place. She cracked a cautious eye, to see Anders looking at her wrapped up in his extra coat with a curious mix of tenderness and amusement.

Flashes of light filled the room behind him, momentarily casting his features into shadow. She cringed with the loud growl of thunder that followed. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and plunging them back into darkness.

"Anders?" she asked hesitantly.

"I thought I'd join you." His voice floated above her.

Scuffling and scraping sounds echoed in the closet, then Hawke found herself pulled between Anders legs, her head pressed to his broad chest. With a contented sigh, she burrowed against him, seeking the comforting heat of his embrace.

A spell wisp winked into place over their heads, bathing them in soft green light.

"Were you making up naughty verses of the Chant of Light again?" he murmured against her ear. His lips barely brushed her skin, warm breath flowing across her neck. She turned slightly in his arms and leaned back to meet his eyes.

"You know how much I dislike storms. I was trying to distract myself."

He lifted his head to listen to the rain pounding against the roof of the mansion. "This is a bad one too. It's why I thought I better come and check on you."

Whistling wind blew under the crack in the door and the building vibrated. Hawke shivered involuntarily, Anders hand coming up to stroke her arm in soothing circles. He lifted the sleeve of the coat she was still wrapped in and raised a questioning brow.

"And just what were you doing wearing my coat this time? You aren't naked like you were on the previous occasion, so I assume it's not for my benefit."

She giggled, remembering the time she had decided to greet Anders return home wearing nothing but his extra mage robe.

Heat spread across her cheeks at this bout of girly foolishness, wondering what he would think of her. "I just wanted your arms around me," she whispered, "and this was as close as I could get."

Anders peeled his coat off her, tossing it aside, then pulled her tight against him, lowering his head to brush his mouth against her lips and causing her stomach to do a little flip. His warm brown eyes roved over her face and he smiled teasingly.

"Maybe it's the possessive man in me, love, but I very much enjoy coming home to see you wearing my clothes. It also does this to me, as I'm sure you are well aware." He dragged her hand down to where his erect cock was straining at his breeches, laughing when she bit her lip in an eager look he recognized.

He pushed up her robe over her thighs, fingers gliding between her legs along the edge of the lacy scrap of smalls she wore. Her breath hitched, her eyes half-lidded in anticipation as he brushed against her, calling forth her bodies wet response as only he could. Insinuating a finger under the fabric, he teased against the silken skin, whispering against her ear.

"Guide me through the blackest nights

Make me to rest in the warmest places."

Anders tilted his head back, smirking at her smile of understanding as he twisted the Chant to suit his meaning. She closed her eyes, trying to piece the verses and canticles in her memory into something suitably alluring.

"With passion'd breath does the darkness creep.

It is the whisper in the night

An unquenchable flame  
All-consuming, and never satisfied."

She shuddered as his fingers penetrated her slowly, moving languidly in and out, brushing expertly over the spot of greatest pleasure. He tugged her earlobe with his teeth, his voice deepening when he spoke again. "Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. Find me well within Your grace."

Hawke met his eyes, dark and lustful, and they came to a silent consensus. Hurriedly, they grappled with clothing, opening his trousers and shoving off her smalls so she could straddle him, enveloping his pulsing cock in the sodden depths of her aching sheathe.

She moaned against his neck. "For You are the fire at the heart of the world. And comfort is only Yours to give."

He thrust up into her, hilting himself in her slick core, hands brushing aside her robe to seek her nipples. Hawke set the pace, starting slowly, then building in speed and intensity. He licked one of his thumbs, using it to draw wet circles on her areola, making her moan.

Anders met her pleasure-dazed eyes, calling up small electric sparks to the hand he rubbed against her clit. Hawke's fingernails dug into his shoulders as their coupling turned feral. He increased the strength of his magic as he spoke the final words against her breast while he lapped at her nipple, staving off his orgasm through will alone.

"Come to me, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity."

The walls of the closet rattled with a loud rumble of thunder, punctuating the intensity of their lovemaking.

Hawke wailed her release, inner muscles gripping around him. Swept into her powerful climax, Anders spilled himself with a final deep thrust and a groan of satisfaction.

Their ragged breaths gradually calmed; the noise of the storm tapering off slightly. Hawke tilted her head resting heavily on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck. Shifting, she clenched around his softening cock, drawing a shuddery sigh from his lips.

She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth. "I believe that's the most amazing religious experience I've ever had. Think we should confide our newfound fervor to Sebastian?"

Anders chuckled, running his hands along her bare legs and coming to rest them on the swell of her bottom. "Only if you tell him about the _Maker coming across Thedas in golden showers_. I'll admit, that's a new favorite for me."

Hawke pushed herself upright, looking down into his laughing eyes. "Mmmhh, I don't suppose he would really appreciate the humor in that."

Anders snagged his spare coat, bunching it behind him like a pillow and laying back, arranging her into a comfortable sprawl across his chest. The storm continued to rage outside, but Hawke found her fear had evaporated during their time in the closet.

He lifted her chin, smiling into her eyes. "In case I didn't make it clear enough before, you are always welcome to wear my clothes, sweetheart."

Hawke smirked, pressing a kiss to his feather covered shoulder. "Thanks love, but I infinitely prefer the man in them."

Anders heart swelled with love for the woman in his arms. He closed his eyes, enjoying the rare feeling of complete peace.

He rather liked storms.


End file.
